One Shot
by allg0nemadd
Summary: Both a title and a description: a one-shot Sculder pairing based on an X-Files overdose-induced dream. No particular time-probably after Season 5; just a little smut fic. Sculder, one-shot, ADULT. R&R as always.


**Warning: Fic contains adult themes, words and actions, which is a nice way of saying it's porn in writing. Please don't read it if it offends you, but if it does, I wonder why you're even looking in the M-section for fics in the first place! Happy reading!**_**  
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_**[The Obligatory Spiel: **All characters and names belong to their respective creators. I am only playing with them.**]**_

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**One Shot**

Scully couldn't remember when they started sharing hotel rooms. It started in hers. Mulder raided the mini-bar, removed his shoes, and fell asleep in the desk chair with an infinitesimal bottle of Kahlua in his hand. Curled up in the bed and flipping channels on the bunny-eared, fuzzy TV set, Scully discovered she was far too lazy to wake him. Besides, Mulder slept heavily. She flipped off the bedside light and fell asleep almost as instantly as he had.

He was gone when she awoke, and as he emerged from his own room later that morning, fully changed and washed up, he said nothing of the previous night. She didn't bring it up either.

They were almost always on the road, or in the air, and hotel rooms were home. As decency and professionalism required, they always got two neighboring rooms. But the line between close friends and serious colleagues was often pushed, and night after night turned into a late congregation of sharing feelings and fears, and often booze.

Mulder always slept in a chair. If it was out of preference or decency, Scully could never tell. But nothing more was said. Nothing needed to be. They had seen each other through thick and thin, saved each others' lives multiple times, and seen things most people couldn't even conceive. Rules were not exactly something Mulder or Scully felt compelled to regard.

It was in Dallas that the rules were broken beyond repair. If he hadn't been such good company, or if she hadn't have been perturbed by a drippy pipe and whistling window, it might have been easier to be proper.

His hair was characteristically disheveled, and that soft glow of alcohol was pure in his eyes. He was being silly, as he naturally was, but showed more when he wasn't burdened with the stress of a case. Her muscles were loose, but she hadn't had much more than a small bottle of rum.

He touched the back of her neck. His fingers were warm and she shivered. He pouted, or more appropriately pursed his lips together in what Scully had come to know as a pout. She could feel his body heat, smell his scent; she was suddenly incredibly aware and thankful that he was so _Mulder._

His hand went into his pocket and emerged with two quarters and some lint. "I need a soda."

He was gone a long time, and Scully had been with him too long now to ignore this fact. The vending machines were not outside, where she had expected them to be. After inquiring in the office, she was sent to the laundry facility with a key attached to a plastic spoon marked "2".

He was leaning up against a dryer, staring at the pop machine in front of him. The room was fiercely warm and humid from the wash, and she felt the air sticking to her.

"Mulder. . ." Scully put a hand on his shoulder and he turned.

"They're out of Pepsi, Scully," he said, motioning to the machine with a finger.

"So you're waiting for it to magically materialize out of thin air?"

He turned to her, producing that boyish smile he offered as response to her gentle joke. For whatever reason, she felt her lips curling back. Soon they were scoffing, and Scully knew that Mulder was to the point of giddy drunkenness that made the night close to a closing.

"Come on, Mulder," she put a hand on his chest. "We have to get up early."

She turned to leave. He didn't follow. His eyes were watching her and the change jingled in his hand as he fumbled with it.

"Mulder?" She stepped back towards him.

"Scully I want you to sleep in the bed," he said unexpectedly. "I'll take the chair."

"I'll just go back to my own room," Scully said.

"You're leaving me alone?" Mulder's pout returned, but playfully replaced itself with a smile.

"I just think that-" Scully started, looking to the horrible green tile of the floor. "That our professionalism is deteriorating. I think we should get ourselves back on track."

Mulder twisted himself a little, which she could only take as a full-body shake of the head. She didn't feel like arguing anymore.

"Alright, Mulder. You can take the chair."

She turned to the door. It was raining outside; she could hear the patter against the metal.

"It's raining," she turned to Mulder, expecting him to still be at the opposite end of the room, and surprised to find his face close to hers.

"Let's wait til it stops," Mulder said.

She laughed, but he did not.

"Mulder, you're drunk," she smiled. "Let's go. It's hot in here."

She turned to the door, before she knew what was happening, his arms were wrapped around her from behind. She hugged back, back couldn't find reason for his peculiar behaviour. He moved one arm to her neck again, where he swept her hair away and again caressed the spot where the micro-chip was. He held her tightly with his other arm, which was a comfort-and also a tingling turn on-that she hated admitting even to herself.

"I should have stopped it," Mulder said.

Scully didn't respond; they'd been through this before. As she allowed him this moment of drunken closeness, she realized her heart was pounding and for the first time since they'd met, she was at a loss for words. She should have turned. She should have regained composure and hauled Mulder out into the storm and back to his room.

How she ended up turning around slowly and innocently to meet his eyes, and later lips, for a kiss, she would never know. He tasted sweet and her lips were wet from his. She played with his bottom lip, arching her eyebrows and keeping her eyes open, but unable to resist. Her hands were on his chest, his on her hips. She moved her eyes level with her hands, but he tilted her head up and again met her with that gaze that was no longer silly. It was a gaze that spoke years of feeling, meaning, and necessity. Of all the truths that never made sense, this was the one that did, and she knew it in those eyes.

Later she would blame his gaze. It was the un-breaking force that led her to remove her shirt, her eyes watching as he did the same. Their bodies were sticking from the humidity; their hands ran ruggedly over each others' skin as they continued kissing. All sense of reason and modesty had been downed with those bottles, though Scully was smart enough to recognize the fact that they had both keys out, and unless there was a third, they would be quite alone.

She pushed herself up against him, at which he hesitated. She discovered soon enough the protruding hardness that was the cause for his modesty, but let her hand slide down his naked chest and over his pants until it was cupping him quite hungrily.

"Scully," he barely breathed her name, his eyes unable to meet hers and his head buried in her neck. She released her hand, but only to take him by the shoulders and kiss him again. His sighing became more rapid, and he gently fell against a nearby row of dryers. His hands were fumbling with her bra straps, a look of boyish disbelief on his face. Even sober, she doubted he had much practice with the intricate engineering of a bra, so she moved her hands to unclasp it for him. She let it fall, and felt his gaze as vividly as a touch against her naked skin.

"I've seen this before," Mulder gently caressed the side of her left breast with a finger. "But you were unconscious."

Scully laughed and nodded at this somewhat less-than-endearing statement, but held his upper arms as his hands gently explored her chest. Before long, she impulsively moved back in for a kiss, and his hands wrapped around her buttocks and pulled her up onto the dyers with him. She kicked off her high heels as she sat on her knees, her lap tantalizingly on top of his own, his hard-on more-than-evident in his black suit-pants. She was wearing a knee-length skirt, which was now bunched up around her waist.

Mulder's fingers were bravely moving up her bare legs and under the fabric of her skirt. She felt herself sighing and gripping his shoulders as he stopped. His eyes begged for permission, and hers gave no resistance. Still, he seemed frozen and unable to bring himself to move further. She briefly smiled at the thought of his ever-present bravery and lack of consideration for consequence, and how the tables had turned.

Gently, she took his arm and moved it towards her. He looked surprised and elated as he, at his own will, moved the rest of the way until his fingers were over her underwear. Her blue eyes bore into his as he rubbed with his thumb. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes to let him know her satisfaction, and he chanced slipping two fingers beneath the lining of her panties. She could feel the easy slide of them along her slit, realizing how wet she had become.

Her own hands felt like they should be doing something, and she moved them to his zipper to release his desire. His hips flinched a little under her touch, and soon she was positioning herself above him, the animal instinct completely in the driver's seat.

She lowered herself onto him as he helped, her hands gripping his shoulders and her red hair falling over her face. It had been weeks, if not months, but even the last experience she had had did not compare to this. She moved easily up and down on him, her hips, back, shoulders, and pelvis in perfect motion. He gripped the sides of the dryer to keep them upright, but was beginning to slide to the side as he slouched under the pleasure. Soon, he was almost laying down, and Scully hopped off the dryer, slid her skirt and panties completely off and got back up on top of him before he even had time to kick off his pants.

Mulder was spread across two and a half dryers, and she had to maneuver her legs to fit. One of the dryers was being used, and shuddered warmly with the tumbling of clothes. Mulder's sighs and grunts were all but drowned out in the noise, but the desire was plain on his face. Scully was having difficulty keeping herself upright, and Mulder seemed to notice. Slowly, he sat up and held her as he sat on his knees. She saw the way she wanted to go, and turned her back to him as she sat on his lap, her neck and head falling back over his shoulder. He lapped at the pale skin of her neck as his hands held her in motion, fingers gripping her breasts. She was moving faster and faster, and Mulder could feel her tightening.

She was all but moaning as he slowly let her fall forward so that she was on her arms and knees and he was now the aggressor. He wrapped his arms around her front as he curled over her back, his hips thrusting desperately into her. She was whimpering and her face was curled into a desperate expression of release. Almost silently, she whispered his name.

He gently swiped the hair off of her neck as he watched her face soften and felt her convulse around him. Her eyes were shut tight, but her mouth was curling into a slight smile. The sight and feeling was overpowering, and Mulder felt himself desperately near to bursting. His impaired mind hesitated, realizing how spontaneous this had all been and somewhere knowing that a condom should have been used, but there was hardly time, for Scully's hands were gripping his hips, begging him, allowing him, his own precious release.

He sighed as he came, slowing himself in and out of her until he was simply hugging her. She held his arms with her own, and they breathed heavily as they came down from ecstasy.

She was the first to move, shuffling a little beneath him until he sat up and allowed her to jump down. He still sat boyishly on the dryer, his legs dangling over the edge. She was already picking up her clothes. Mulder gave her a half-smile that she was failing at pretending not to return. She handed him his shirt, and he zipped up his pants.

"So do you still want me to take the chair?"


End file.
